Calleighella
by Deb3
Summary: 20th in the Fearful Symmetry series. On Rosalind's first birthday, Calleigh's dreams and her happy ending leave fairy tales out in the cold.


Title: Calleighella

Rating: G. We need a few G stories now and then.

Disclaimer: None of the CSIM characters you see on TV are mine. Rosalind, however, is.

Series: This is the 20th in the Fearful Symmetry series. Fearful Symmetry, Can't Fight This Feeling, Gold Medals, Surprises, Honeymoon, Blackout, the Hopes and Fears, Anniversary, Framed, Sight for Sore Eyes, Trials and Tribbulations, Premonition, Do No Harm, the CSI Who Loved Me, Complications, Yet to Be, More Deadly, Photo Finish, the Caine Mutiny, and Calleighella. All are archived on under Deb3 and at Lonely Road.

Notes on Why: I'd better take a moment to refresh your memory on the FS version of a character I will refer to here as Why (a question I frequently ask myself when she crosses the screen on Mondays). In FS, she is purely peripheral, and it's been quite a while since she's been mentioned and even longer since she's been seen. She does exist in FS, though, mainly described in Surprises 3. She is a dark, fiery volcano temperamentally. She is attracted to H and would love for there to be more between them. However, she is not in his league, which she admits to herself deep down, and she couldn't handle a relationship with him if she had him romantically. Still, the attraction is definitely there, although it would be impossible for it to come to anything. In FS, Stetler does not exist, and Madison does not exist, so delete those complications. H knows about Why's feelings, but his are pure family. To him, she is his brother's widow and his nephew's mother, nothing more. More to the point for this story, Calleigh knows about Why's wished-for relationship with H and at one point resented and distrusted her. Cal, being secure in marriage at this point, isn't really bothered by this anymore, but it is in her subconscious from the past, and it is quite possible that it might spring out some night in her dreams. Note that all of this background on Why was drawn in Surprises, which was written in the summer between S1 and S2. Had I been able to foresee then the ample evidence in S2 what a not just incompetent but unbelievable cop Why is (flirting and confirming a date at the breaking crime scene of a fellow officer's murder?!?!?!?), I would have been considerably less generous to her professionally in describing her character at that time. However, unlike TPTB, once I have drawn a character with a certain background and personality, I will be consistent to it, not change what's come before at whim.

That's Not Nice Disclaimer: If you are a big fan of Why's, just in case you haven't figured it out from the above, I am not. I usually simply leave her alone. I don't in this story. Be prepared or avert your eyes.

Final (I promise) Disclaimer: The statement here attributed to Rosalind the elder about three possibilities is a direct quote (with name substitution) from a close friend. I can take no credit at all for those words.

(H/C)

"Thy loving smile will surely hail

The love-gift of a fairy tale."

Lewis Carroll, Through the Looking Glass

(H/C)

"And they all lived happily ever after." Horatio's silky voice made it a personal promise as his shining eyes surveyed his family.

Calleigh picked up the remote and switched the television off, stilling the credits in mid Disney song. "Some of them, however, will have to wait until tomorrow for more living happily ever after. The guest of honor fell asleep on us." Rosalind was indeed asleep. The family was curled together in a cozy knot on the couch, Horatio the foundation, Calleigh perfectly meshed into the curve of his side, Rosalind now asleep on his lap, and Hope rolled into a ball on Horatio's leg and in the curve of Rosalind's stomach, holding her nose on with her paw. Rosalind had received a pack of six Disney movies for her first birthday, but although she enjoyed the horse and the dancing dishes in Beauty and the Beast, she hadn't made it past midnight with Cinderella, worn out from the excitement of a whole afternoon of celebration. Horatio and Calleigh had picked her up at noon from daycare and spent the rest of the day making it special for her. Now, happily exhausted, she didn't even stir at their low conversation. One of Rosalind's hands lay on the kitten and rose and fell with her steady breaths. The other hand clutched a stuffed horse by the hoof, her version of a teddy bear. Her lips moved faintly in her sleep, smacking together.

"Dreaming of cake, I'll bet," Horatio chuckled.

"She did seem to like it. Shame birthdays only come once a year."

"We could start a new tradition. Celebrate unbirthdays instead, like in Alice in Wonderland. We'd get a cake every day." Horatio's arm, around Calleigh's shoulder, pulled her closer to him as his fingers fanned her hair. "We'll get another cake tomorrow, anyway. Tomorrow is your birthday."

"We could have celebrated them together, Horatio. I wouldn't mind."

He dropped a kiss on top of her head. "She deserves her own. So do you." He gave a soft sigh. "Calleigh, I don't think I've ever been this happy in my life. Not just you, but her, too. It's like a double happy ending."

She snuggled down into the warm reality of his presence. "We have it better than the fairy tales. I read a sequel to Cinderella once. It didn't go that well. In fact, I always wondered as a child if that's why they stopped the movies there. They had to stop it quick before something went wrong."

His gentle fingers never stopped tracing her hair. "Sometimes, there really are happy endings, Cal. And even when there aren't, life is better than the movies. You get to participate, not just watch."

She laughed suddenly. "You know, I think this is the first time I've ever watched Cinderella and not wanted to scream, or shoot her, or both. I used to get so mad at that character when I was a kid. Out of all the fairy tales, it seemed, Cinderella was the worst."

He stiffened a little in surprise at the depth of feeling behind her words, and Hope gave a soft trill of protest in her sleep. Horatio relaxed again and scratched the kitten's ears in apology, and she purred without opening her eyes. "Why?"

"Because everything is done for her. The fairy godmother or the animals take care of everything, and Cinderella just goes along for the ride. Snow White and Sleeping Beauty couldn't help being under a spell, but Cinderella was awake and capable all along. Just think, if it hadn't been for the fairy godmother or for somebody else intervening, her life never would have changed. She never did anything for herself, just accepted her lot. She still would have been with an unhappy family forever if it weren't for someone else doing the work. She should have done something on her own gumption -- left home, gone to the ball in blue jeans, run away, anything. Instead, she just mopes around the house and accepts her situation. All she ever did was dream and never acted. I wanted to hit her."

Horatio stroked her hair more firmly. "She made you feel more powerless, didn't she? Like the only way to a happy ending was magical intervention."

Calleigh sighed. "Exactly. I saw myself in her, and I hated both of us. Everything she got that made any difference, the coach, the horses, the dress, it was just handed to her. She did nothing to get it except being good, and that's not enough to carry that much weight in the world. Even as a kid, I knew that. She should have had to work for it, had to do something for herself. Otherwise, how could I explain the ending? She had a happy ending, and she didn't even have to try. What chance did I have, thinking I could work my way there? I resented that dress and that coach so much when I was a kid."

"And the prince?"

"You know, Handsome, somehow, I never minded the prince. I kind of liked the idea of the prince being out there. But in Cinderella, so much else is a gift. I wish she had contributed something of her own effort toward that ending. She couldn't even start a relationship without a fairy godmother helping her."

Horatio was silent for a minute, and his voice was soft with memories and understanding when he spoke. "I know exactly what you mean. I've always expected to have to work to get things myself, too. My mother told me something once, a few months before she died, that I've never forgotten. She said, 'When you really want something in life, there are three things that might happen. First, sometimes you'll never get it. You've learned that lesson already. Second, sometimes you'll get it, but you'll have to struggle for every inch, overcome obstacles, claw your way to it before you finally reach the goal. You've learned that lesson almost too well. But once in a while, Horatio, good things, priceless things just come. You don't have to fight your way to it, and you don't have to fail. It's just a gift, and all you have to do is accept it. That's the lesson you need to work on most, and if you don't learn that one, you'll miss some of the best things life has for you.'"

Calleigh closed her eyes, leaning against him, and they let the silence speak for a moment. "She really was remarkable, wasn't she?"

"Yes. I wish you'd known her, Cal."

"I wish I had, too." She reached up to trace his fingers on her arm lovingly. "She's right, you know. There are gifts. Like meeting you in my life."

Horatio laughed suddenly, and the kitten shifted again. "Bad example, Cal. I'll accept you being a gift to me, but from your point of view, you really had to work at us. Call it a backwards Cinderella. I was the one who was afraid and ran, and you chased me down. Stood right here in this living room and refused to leave when I told you to."

Calleigh laughed herself in memory. "Still counts as a gift. The reward is out of all proportion to the effort."

"Rosalind is a gift that was just given to us." Calleigh stiffened up, abruptly remembering the events of Rosalind's birthday precisely a year ago, and Horatio continued. "Oh, I know we had to go through hell to keep her, but you getting pregnant in the first place was a pure gift." His free hand found his daughter's hair, so like his wife's, and traced it as his other hand fanned Calleigh's.

"Yes," Calleigh agreed. "Nobody could deserve this. It's a gift."

"So, you said you didn't get mad at Cinderella for being a weakling this time?"

"No. The movie doesn't bother me anymore. Now, I just feel sorry for her, because I've found a prince that beats hers hollow. She doesn't know what a happy ending is." She pushed away enough to face him, her head tilting up as his bent, meeting halfway, and the phone rang.

Rosalind jumped, waking up instantly, and Horatio and Calleigh broke the kiss reluctantly as the kitten hopped down in disgust from the shifting human platform and stalked away. Horatio reached for the cordless phone on the end table. "Horatio."

"Hi, H." It was Speed. "Hope I wasn't interrupting the party."

"No, the party's over. We were just sitting around analyzing Cinderella's character."

Speed was silent for a few seconds. "Trying to explain the story to Rosalind, you mean?"

"No, she fell asleep long since, along with the cat. Cal and I were talking about it ourselves."

"You and Calleigh were just sitting around with everybody else asleep and analyzing fairy tales?"

"Right. There's a lot in these fairy tales. You might find yourself doing it someday, spending an evening with your love talking about Cinderella, or maybe even moving on to Snow White eventually when you're really comfortable talking together. You'll understand once you and Breeze get married."

"We're not planning to . . ." Speed sputtered. Calleigh was snickering, and Rosalind looked curiously from one of her parents to the other.

Horatio bit his lip to hold his own laughter back. "Did you want something, Speed? Besides insight into fairy tales, I mean." His voice was as smooth as glass; the laughter was successfully held captive in his eyes.

"I just wanted to let you know that I stayed late and finished the evidence on that beach case. We've got an airtight case against the boyfriend now."

"Nice work. Better get home, Speed. Enjoy your weekend."

"You, too, H. I'll let you and Calleigh get back to Cinderella."

"That's considerate of you. See you Monday." As Horatio hung up the phone, Calleigh collapsed into laughter.

"You should have heard both sides," Horatio told her. "It was even funnier with Speed's comments put in."

"I could guess well enough. Did they close the beach case?"

"Locked up tight. So, what now? Another movie, Angel? Think you can stay awake this time?"

"Cake," Rosalind suggested brightly. "Choclit birtday cake."

"Or bed," Calleigh said, looking at her watch. It was past Rosalind's bedtime.

"No," Rosalind insisted. She slid off Horatio's lap and headed for the kitchen. "More cake."

Horatio and Calleigh were left on the couch smiling at each other. "You're right," she said. "This is a gift."

"Beats any fairy tale I've read," he agreed. They came together again, their arms around each other.

Rosalind walked back into the door of the kitchen, wondering why they weren't there yet. They were kissing again. She never did understand their priorities. "Mama, Dada, cake!"

"One very small piece, since it's your birthday, but then bed." Calleigh came to her feet. "It's past your bedtime."

"And getting close to mine," Horatio said, sotto voce, as he followed her to the kitchen.

"Working on it," she replied, turning to smile at him. "Tonight and ever after."

"Ever after," he agreed.

"Cake," Rosalind said.

(H/C)

"Calleigh!" The voice was strident, superior, demanding. Calleigh picked up her gun and tiptoed past the drunken heap of her father, slumped over the kitchen table. "Calleigh! You didn't iron this blouse quite evenly the last time you did the laundry. Calleigh! What am I supposed to wear to the banquet tonight? It's the only one that's a perfect match for that skirt." Calleigh arrived at the back door and pushed it silently open, the hinges joining her conspiracy, refraining from squeaking. "Calleigh! Get up here!"

Calleigh let the screen door close gently, blocking the sound with her hand. "Do it yourself for once, Yelina," she whispered, looking up in the general direction of her stepsister. She slipped across the back yard like a bird freed from a cage and reached the sanctuary of the woods.

Once shielded by the forest, her steps usually slowed down, absorbing the peace around her. Not today. Her march toward her private shooting range at a safe distance out of earshot of the house was an angry stalk. For she, Calleigh Duquesne, had had enough, and when Calleigh Duquesne had had enough, the whole world around her knew it.

Calleigh Duquesne. She even thought of herself by that name now. She would change her name, dropping the one that had belonged to her drunken father, to her hapless, helpless married mother until her death, and to the stepmother who had come to rule over Calleigh's final years of childhood with an iron and extremely partial hand. Instead, Calleigh would take her mother's maiden name, a name that at least had honor and decisiveness associated with it. It was the name of her grandparents, and all she knew about them was that they had disowned her mother when she married her father. She admired them tremendously for it. She was of age now, and she was going to be decisive herself. She was getting out.

Three more months. Just three more months. The jobs she did in the small community were adding up, and the money in her private savings was growing. In three more months, she would have enough money to pay her first semester's tuition at college, to get an apartment in the city, and to start her own life. In Biblical fashion, she would shake the dust of Darnell off her feet as she left, never looking back, and she would do something for herself for a change. In a lifetime of official childhood, there had been very little for herself. Instead, there had only been years of looking after her mother, looking after her father, trying to avoid her stepmother, and trying to avoid her stepsister, who specialized in making Calleigh look bad in front of the rest of her family.

Yelina. Calleigh's foot came down with such a stomp at the next step that she hurt her ankle. She stomped again just to prove that she could take it, that the pain was inconsequential. Yelina was the same age, technically old enough to make it on her own now, just as Calleigh was. All of Yelina's dreams, however, were of men. She was constantly on the lookout for the best, the handsomest, the one who would show her off to her best advantage. Darnell being notably small in the men pool, and most of those with more common sense than Yelina gave them credit for, she had had no luck with the locals. Her attentions focused on every stranger through town. To Yelina, every male was a possible candidate for the one who would lift her out of Darnell.

Today, she was especially aflutter with possibilities. This very evening, the Handsome Prince would be in town. Everyone had read about him, but few had seen him, since he tried to avoid having his picture in the papers. His string of good deeds and compassion toward others was legendary, and he was coming to Darnell to personally hand over a check for the local hospital's building fund. The method was not his choice. He had tried to mail it in, and the hospital had begged him to come in person, even finding a token sick child whose possible dying wish was to meet him. So tonight, there would be a banquet and a ceremony, followed by dancing. Yelina saw her golden opportunity. Not just a man, but one rumored to be the best catch in the country. She had spent the last month planning her hair, her outfit, her nails, until Calleigh was ready to scream.

Calleigh realized abruptly that she was already at her private shooting range. She had been moving faster than she thought. Fine. She loaded the rifle, picked out her target, and mentally put a face on it. Yelina. Bang! Dead center. She reloaded and redrew mentally. Her stepmother. Bang! The third time, she made it her imagined face for the Handsome Prince and dispatched him, too. "Princes," she spat. "Who needs them? Yelina can have the Prince, for all I care. I'm getting out of here on my own, and I don't need any man to help me." She repeated the cycle and had just killed the Handsome Prince for the second time when a low voice materialized from the air at her elbow.

"Nice shot." The voice was smooth, indescribably rich, and despite the abruptness, it didn't startle her. What it did was send a sharp tingle of anticipation through her entire body even before she could look. Anticipation of what, she didn't know, but something was about to happen. She saw the indistinct shadow of her future as she turned, and somehow, already, she recognized it.

The man standing behind her wore blue jeans that looked comfortably broken in without being faded. He had a white shirt tucked into them, the top two buttons open, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His hair was kissed by fire, and his eyes were the same bottomless blue as a spring-fed lake Calleigh had seen once. In his relaxed but competent hands, he carried his own gun.

She was staring. She firmly shut her mouth, then realized she had to open it again to speak. "Nice shot for a girl, you mean?"

"I didn't say that," he countered. "Nor think it, even. A shot is a shot, no matter who takes it, and that one was a thing of beauty. Straight into the tree, no chipping, no glancing, no angle. Dead-on."

Her eyes widened slightly as she measured the distance to the tree he had referred to. If he could tell that much about the condition of the target from here, those crystal eyes must be as sharp as a hawk's. His words did at least convince her of his sincerity – and of his knowledge. She looked again at the easy grip on the gun. "Let's see you hit it."

He hardly seemed to aim, raising the gun and shooting in one smooth motion. They walked down the clearing together and studied their tree. His bullet had hit precisely above hers, less than an eighth of an inch distance between them. "I'm impressed," she admitted.

"That makes it mutual." He smiled, and it lit and transformed a weathered face. She wasn't sure how old he was; he seemed older than she was, but she knew from the way he moved that he was still well in his prime. He looked like someone who had seen much of life and still fought to see good things in it. Calleigh, who had seen more of life, at least more of her life, than she wanted to, was intrigued. "Am I interrupting you?" he asked suddenly. "I heard the shots and came, but if you'd rather be alone, I'll be on my way."

It was the first time anyone had ever offered to leave her alone. Calleigh's interest shot up even higher. "No, you're not interrupting anything. I just come here to shoot sometimes. You're a stranger here, aren't you?" The question mark was unnecessary. Everyone knew everyone in Darnell. Yet he didn't seem out of place in these woods.

His eyes fell suddenly, trying to hide from her. "I'm just passing through." He left it there, and she did not push. His business was his business, after all. "May I know your name?" he asked, honestly making it a request, as he would ask for a gift, acknowledging its value. She hesitated. "You don't have to tell me," he replied with instant sensitivity. "I just wondered. It must be beautiful, whatever it is."

Calleigh melted, her knees suddenly feeling weak. She snapped back straight, forcing them to hold her, and fired back across the clearing to the opposite tree. He turned away and sized up his own shot, time that he didn't need, if his earlier effort had been any indication of his ability. After the echoes of their two guns had died, they walked over to the tree. The silence wasn't awkward, but Calleigh broke it, just the same.

"It's just that my name is about to change." He instantly stiffened up, looking at her left hand with a flicker of something, surely not disappointment, in his eyes. He inspected her bare fingers and looked back up at her, puzzled. "There's more than one reason to change a name," she stated with determination.

He nodded in what seemed like real understanding. "That there is. Forget the past, then. What should your name be?"

"Calleigh Duquesne." She reached out a hand toward him. "And what's yours?"

He hesitated himself for a moment, but he had started this exchange, after all. "Just call me Horatio."

Horatio. It was the most delicious name she had ever heard. Horatio. It slid off the tongue, the embodiment of elegance, class, and an electric excitement underneath it, an entirely different world from the men she had known. "It fits you," she said.

He took her offered hand, giving her a firm but not painful handshake. "Thank you. And your name is perfect."

"Not perfect. Just mine." He grinned at her, a slightly crooked grin that made him look much younger, and she returned it. "So, Horatio. Are you going to be around Darnell long?"

"No, I'm afraid I'm just here for the day. I have, um, obligations elsewhere." He looked at her and into her soul. "Somehow, I don't think you're going to be here long yourself."

It wasn't a question, but she nodded. "I'm going to find my own life."

He picked up her hand and lightly brushed his lips to it, a gesture that she would have resented from any of the men in the town, but he did it with respect, almost, as if cradling a treasure. "I hope you find what you're looking for."

"I hope you do, as well." She sensed his emptiness, as he had sensed hers. "Are you leaving already?"

"Forgive me, but I have an obligation tonight that I have to get ready for. I just came out here to the woods to be alone for a while first." His eyes met hers again like magnets. "I would rather stay here and talk, Calleigh, but I have a commitment."

He had a commitment. He put personal preference secondary to a commitment. Why couldn't this one have been from Darnell? "It's okay, Horatio. I understand." They both hesitated, awkward now, somehow not wanting to say goodbye. "Maybe we'll meet again some time."

His eyes actually brightened up slightly. "Maybe we will. I look forward to it, Calleigh Duquesne."

She watched him out of sight, admiring his easy, graceful stride, his purpose, and (she admitted privately to herself) his body. She stood there for a good 20 minutes after he was gone and only remembered the gun when it finally fell from her nerveless fingers and hit the forest floor. She bent to pick it up, accosting herself for carelessness, and was just starting to straighten when a hand fell on her shoulder.

Calleigh whirled around, bringing the gun up instantly into business position as she backed a step to get room for a shot if needed. It was a little old woman wearing, of all things in the woods, a long, bejeweled dress. "What the hell do you think you're doing, coming up behind me like that? I could have killed you."

"Actually, you couldn't have, dear. I'm immortal."

Great. It was an escapee from a local psychiatric ward. "Um, yeah, right, whatever. Even so, be careful sneaking up on people with guns, okay? Eternity might be shorter than you think."

The woman sighed. "Sorry. I should have introduced myself from the front. I'll remember that for next time."

Calleigh lowered her gun, still ready to bring it up again if this lunatic got menacing. "So who are you?"

"I'm your fairy godmother."

"My what?"

"Your fairy godmother. I'm here to help you find happiness."

"I don't need a fairy godmother, and I can find happiness without your help, thank you. I have my own plans all in place."

The woman sighed. "Wouldn't you like to find better plans, though?"

"If there are better plans out there, I'll find them myself. So scram. You showed up five years too late. Go bless somebody else; I'm busy."

The woman sighed. "You don't understand. I have to help you."

Calleigh raised the gun again slightly. "No, you don't understand. Try this: Leave. Me. Alone." She turned around and stalked off toward her father's distant house.

The woman glided along soundlessly beside her, and Calleigh abruptly realized that her feet were hovering about six inches off the ground. She stopped and stared, and the woman stopped with her, maintaining the levitation. "The thing is, dear, I have to help you, or I won't earn full qualification. You're my final exam."

Calleigh sighed. "I take it back. You obviously are my fairy godmother. If there really was magical help being given out in this world, I would get assigned an intern."

The woman rubbed her fingers together, showering sparks. "Wonderful. You let me help you, and I promise, I'll leave you alone just as soon as I have enough points. Now, then, we need to get you ready for the banquet tonight."

"Who said I wanted to go to the banquet?"

"But of course you want to go to the banquet, dear. The Handsome Prince will be there."

"I don't need a Handsome Prince. I can get through life just fine without one. Besides which, I'm not totally convinced that there is such a thing. I'll bet he lies, or cheats, or something when nobody's looking. Yelina can have the Prince. She probably will, too. She is good looking. Nobody else in town can hold a candle to her."

The fairy godmother brightened up suddenly. "That's it! How would you like to ruin the banquet for Yelina?"

Calleigh's interest abruptly focused. Princes she didn't need, but ruining the night for Yelina sounded like fun. "How do I do that?"

"I'll give you a gown that will make you the most beautiful woman in the world when you wear it. It will also make you unrecognizable. So you put on this gown and go to the banquet, and none of your friends will know you. Yelina won't know you. But the Handsome Prince won't even look at her after he sees you. Trust me. With you at the banquet, she hasn't got a chance."

Calleigh smiled, suddenly feeling very mean inside. "Great idea. I'll do it." The fairy godmother waved a wand, and the gown appeared suddenly on Calleigh, absolutely stunning, as she had said. "Wait a minute! What happened to my gun?"

"It's just in temporary storage, dear." The wand waved again, and Calleigh's gun and former clothes lay at her feet. "Now, then, you need transportation. You can't take your father's excuse for a car; it doesn't match the gown. Besides, we don't want Yelina to see you until you're there." The fairy godmother raised the wand. "What do you want? BMW? A convertible, maybe?"

Calleigh abruptly remembered an advertisement she'd seen on TV. "I want a Hummer."

The wand hesitated. "A Hummer? With that dress?"

"Whatever you say about them, they aren't cheap. Besides, I can store my gun and clothes in it during the banquet. I can't keep a gun in a convertible." Calleigh crossed her arms in determination. "A Hummer or nothing."

The wand traced a large, blocky rectangle, and a Hummer stood in the clearing before them. Calleigh verified that the keys were in the ignition, then put her gun and clothes in the back seat and climbed in. "Thank you. I must admit, I think I'm going to have fun tonight."

"See you later, dear." The Hummer drove off, following the path out of the woods, and the fairy godmother stared after it and sighed. "A Hummer. They never gave that answer in the textbooks. Oh well, at least I got her there. Now if it only works. Magic can't do everything. Why did I get assigned such a stubborn final exam?" Still mumbling to herself, the fairy godmother elevated until she was above the tree tops, then swooped off toward the town.

(H/C)

Calleigh entered the banquet room, and every jaw dropped, including her own. There on the platform, looking intensely like he'd rather be elsewhere, was Horatio. His eyes met hers and widened. Excusing himself, he slipped off the stage. Yelina, who had been watching him with predatory intent since she had arrived, hooked onto his arm as he came by her, and Horatio honestly didn't notice. Unable to match his momentum, Yelina was forced to let him go or be dragged off her feet.

He was in front of Calleigh then, stretching out both hands to her. "Calleigh. I didn't know you were coming."

"You aren't supposed to be able to know me. Not in this gown." Calleigh quickly looked right and left, but there was only stunned admiration, not recognition, on all of the faces of her friends and neighbors.

Horatio looked down at her, studying the dress, then met her eyes again. "I think I've always known you," he said simply. "You do look beautiful, but you did this afternoon in the woods, too."

Calleigh was lost in his eyes again. I think I've always known you, her heart echoed. Her mind insisted that this wasn't part of The Plan, and she firmly told it to take a number. It was hard to think of plans while looking at this man. "You didn't tell me you were the Handsome Prince, Horatio."

His eyes fell. "I hate that title. That's what other people call me, what they expect me to live up to."

"From what I've heard, you do a great job of it."

He shook his head. "I'm not a Handsome Prince. I'm just Horatio."

"Somehow I think those two words 'just Horatio' should never go together." An orchestra had started up in a corner of the room. Calleigh had completely forgotten her intended mission for tonight, even though she was carrying it out very well. "May I have this dance?"

He took a step toward the dance floor, his hand extended in invitation. "Only if I may have the next one."

Time lost them as they twirled in each other's arms. He was much taller, but there was no awkwardness, their steps effortlessly matched to each other, their movements fitting together perfectly. His arms came around her, pulling her closer. The music gradually slowed. Their lips neared magnetically, both knowing what would happen, both slightly scared, but neither wanting to stop it. Their lips met. Drowning in a sea of emotion, they clung to each other for rescue, getting further from shore instead of closer, yet exulting in the waves of promise and passion that crashed over them.

Suddenly, the kiss broke, leaving Calleigh hanging jaggedly alone on the edge of what had been two of them. Horatio had backed away, and the look in his eyes was pure panic. "Calleigh, I . . ."

Calleigh stepped toward him. "Horatio. Come on, Horatio, it's all right. I want it as much as you do."

"But you deserve more than me," he said. She took another step, and he whirled around and bolted, pushing woodenly through the stunned crowd. She chased him, and he fled from her, racing out the hotel door and down the steps. He was unable to resist one final look back at her as he reached the sidewalk, and at that moment, he ran into the massive parked Hummer and stumbled badly. Picking himself up, he raced on, darting away, and before she could even find the pocket in this obscenely full-skirted gown to get the keys to the vehicle and chase him, he had vanished. Calleigh swore as she finally got the keys extracted and promptly dropped them. She bent to pick them up and hesitated. Beside them on the pavement, precisely at the spot where Horatio had stumbled, was a leather dress shoe.

(H/C)

Calleigh sat in the parked Hummer, a cell phone to her ear. She was in the big city where the papers had said the Handsome Prince had business to deal with throughout both weeks framing the weekend of the banquet at Darnell. On the console beside her lay the shoe, and below that was a lab printout. Calleigh ran one hand thoughtfully over the shoe, turning it to consider the sole, where a slight residue was still present between the tread. Selling the gown had provided her enough money along with her savings to leave Darnell and fund some research. Her first stop had been at a chemical laboratory, having the evidence analyzed. So now, she was sitting here calling all hotels in the city. It was pointless asking whether Horatio was registered there; none of them would have said. Instead, she followed a different tactic, asking at each for the maintenance department. The specific combination of chemicals found on the sole of that shoe were from an industrial cleaner and an industrial floor wax. Both were common, but the list of hotels that had used both on the same day within the last week would hopefully be shorter. Floors were not waxed every night. Horatio must have picked it up walking through his hotel on his way to another function the night before he was at Darnell. He only wore those shoes to functions; he had had a much more reasonable and comfortable pair out in the woods. The chemicals would have worn off in just a few uses; it had to be from recently. Hopefully, with obligations here two weeks in a row, he was still at the same hotel.

The phone sprang back to life. "Ma'am? Are you still there?"

"Yes." And have been for 10 minutes, and did it really take that long to check your records?

"We do use that floor cleaner, and we did wax the hardwood floor in the lobby last Thursday night."

"Thank you."

"Our pleasure. We're always ready to help solve a crime." Well, she'd had to tell them something. And this was a crime, or would be, if she didn't find him. She hit end on the phone with a determined jab of her finger and turned the key, appreciating the way the engine roared into life, matching her resolve. She was really getting fond of this vehicle. Fairy godmothers were good for something, after all. But she would catch her Prince herself.

(H/C)

Calleigh waited in the lobby, tucked in a chair behind a convenient palm, peering through the fronds. She felt him before she saw him. There he was, coming across the lobby from the elevators, pausing at the desk to say something to the receptionist, then turning toward the door.

She had firmly planted herself in his path, and he almost ran into her. "Calleigh!" The eyes widened.

One of her hands firmly captured his wrist, and the other slapped his shoe down across his palm. "You forgot something."

He tried to hide behind courtesy. "You tracked me down all the way from Darnell to return my shoe?"

"No, I didn't. Do you want to have this conversation here in the lobby, outside on the street, or up in your private room?"

His eyes fell. "I'm in 506." They headed back toward the elevator, and the trip up was accomplished in silence.

As soon as the door to his room closed firmly behind him, Calleigh seized him and continued their discussion at the precise point where he had broken it off last Friday night. She only let him go when it occurred to her that he might be in need of oxygen.

Horatio did look winded, physically and emotionally. His dazed eyes met hers. "You tracked me down," he said, still unable to accept it.

"Right. And you know why? Because we have something here that's worth tracking you down for, and if you don't want it, you can at least have the nerve to tell me that directly, to my face. You don't run away."

He studied her, measuring her sincerity. "I don't want to disappoint you."

"Trust me, I don't think that will be a problem." She captured him again, kissing him until they both needed oxygen. She finally let him go. "Besides, how could I possibly improve on a Handsome Prince?"

He flinched. "Don't call me that. I'm not a prince, Calleigh. I'm just a man trying to make a difference in the world. The reporters have blown it all out of proportion."

She compromised. "Okay, I'll just call you Handsome, then. I have first-hand evidence on that half of it." She studied him. He was finally beginning to accept this, she thought. "One thing, though. Let me share your work, Horatio. Don't separate it from the rest of your life with me. I want to make a difference in the world, too."

He smiled suddenly. "I wouldn't have it any other way," he said. "I'm sorry, Calleigh. If you really do want to share a life together, I can't think of anyone else I'd rather be with." He initiated it that time, and they were exploring in mutual eagerness when a knock came on the door. Horatio muttered a word that Calleigh didn't think Handsome Princes knew and went to open it. After a low conversation, he came back, holding a pair of shoes. "I had to order a new pair before the dinner tonight. I was missing one."

She waved it playfully by the laces. "You aren't now."

He shook his head. "I'm not wearing that pair anymore. I think I'll have them bronzed. They brought us together." He smiled again. "I still can't believe you tracked me down from Darnell. How'd you do it?"

"Trace evidence on the sole of the shoe. It led me to your hotel."

He kissed her again, just briefly this time. "I'm sorry, Calleigh, but we'll have to continue this discussion later. I've got to get ready for tonight. I'd much rather stay here with you, understand, but there are people counting on me."

"Where were you going when I caught you, Horatio?"

"Just out for a walk. I like to be alone for a while, before I go to an event. It balances things somehow." He traced her arm lovingly. "That's what brought me to those woods. I wanted to be alone."

She smiled, seeing the irony of it. "I went there to be alone, too. From now on, let's be alone together."

"Count on it," he replied. "I'd better take a shower and get changed. Do you have anything to wear tonight to a dinner? If you want to come with me, that is."

"Always, Handsome. I saw a shop across the street. I'll buy something really quick."

"Also, I don't mean to pry, but is there anybody you should call? Anyone who might be worried about you? If you're going to stay with me forever, you ought to tell your family."

She started to refuse, then relaxed. He wasn't prying, just thinking of others. "You're right. They aren't much of a family, but they ought to know I'm not dead. I'll call them, then go buy a dress while you take a shower and get ready."

He kissed her again. "I could get used to this."

Calleigh gave a sigh of pure contentment. "I intend to." He smiled at her, then disappeared into the bathroom. Calleigh sat down on the bed next to the phone on the nightstand and paused with her hand on the receiver, thinking back over the last few days. How quickly dreams could change. How quickly dreams could improve.

"Excuse me." Calleigh looked up to see the fairy godmother floating down from the ceiling.

"Let me guess. You want the Hummer back, right? I can't return the dress. I sold it."

"No, dear, you can keep the Hummer. All I need is your signature. You have to sign off so that I get credit." She extended a paper along with a golden pen which materialized out of the air, and Calleigh took them. The paper simply stated, in ornate calligraphy, "I, the undersigned, am happy."

Calleigh signed with a flourish, leaving off any last name since that was once again about to change. "Is just Calleigh enough?"

"That's plenty, dear. They'll know who you are. We all do." The fairy godmother smiled at her again and disappeared in a twirl of fairy dust.

Calleigh looked at her hands. There was no ring yet, but there would be. That would come from Horatio, not from magic. She gave another sigh. I, the undersigned, am happy.

Finally remembering her current task, she picked up the phone and dialed. Yelina answered.

"Yelina, this is Calleigh."

"Calleigh! Where have you been? Running off like that, leaving us all worried. Mother and I have even had to take care of your father for you."

"I've got good news, Yelina. I'm not coming back. Instead, I'm going to marry the Handsome Prince, who happens to really be named Horatio, and spend my days making the world a better place and my nights in his arms. Isn't that wonderful?"

Yelina was speechless for a minute. "You are marrying the Handsome Prince? How did you manage that?"

"I was trying to be alone. He was, too. You ought to try it sometime, Yelina, you really get better results than all the effort you throw into it. Anyway, tell Daddy, and your mother, too, I guess, that I'm fine."

Yelina sighed. "Well, that's good news for you, I guess. But what about me?"

Calleigh couldn't resist. "Actually, I do have good news for you, Yelina."

Her stepsister brightened up. "Really? What's that?"

"You could save a bundle on your car insurance by switching to Geico."

(H/C)

"Calleigh." Calleigh shifted, coming up with a reassuringly real double handful of Horatio.

"Mmmm. We're married."

"I approve, too. Warn me next time before you tackle me in my sleep, though."

"I tackled you?"

"Yes. You were talking, too."

"What did I say, Horatio?"

"'I've caught you now. Run if you can.'"

Calleigh burst into laughter. "Sorry, Horatio. I was just dreaming. Kind of a backwards Cinderella, like you mentioned. I've been chasing you half the night, I think."

"You caught me, apparently. Not that I doubted you."

They came together in a deeply satisfying kiss and then separated as the clock started to chime from the living room. They froze in that automatic stillness in which people acknowledge chiming clocks. "Midnight," Horatio said. "Not such a long chase, after all, although I'll bet it seemed longer."

"It sure did. You bolted, Handsome."

"Sorry about that. I'm right here now, though, and nothing vanished at midnight. So, happy birthday, Calleigh. What do you want for your birthday?"

Her hands caught his shoulders and pulled him closer. "I've already got it."

(H/C)

Next on CSI:Miami – Fearful Symmetry: "Swan Song." When Calleigh and Rosalind are in a car accident, the team begins to reconstruct the other driver's identity and finds themselves pulled into the plans for a murder that hasn't yet taken place. Now, racing the clock, they are searching for another identity, that of the intended victim.

A/N: I am going on extended CSIM fic break, so the next story is probably several months away for you. The series is still alive and well, although it will probably continue to get more spaced out as other writing areas get more demanding. The title on Swan Song derives from music, not from endings. Well, at least not from H/C or FS endings. There are other FS stories planned afterwards, as well as maybe a few non FS if I get in the mood to share them, and my muse continues to roll along on all fronts, CSIM and otherwise, like the Energizer Bunny on M&Ms. However, you could use a break from my stories for a while.

I am going to switch gears and devote all time for writing things down to my full-length mystery novel, Hidden Fires, a 4-year project that is finally completed. Not that it's been stuck or uncooperative; it's just taken four years to finish, and I've loved every minute of it. However, I can't submit it to anyone with it locked in my head, unfortunately. Wish I could. I'm really excited about Hidden Fires. It's the best of my full-length fiction books so far (it is the eighth) and the first that I thought really deserved a shot at the big world. Swan Song will wait. I'm not sure how long this will take, since it's notoriously hard to estimate length mental to paper, but I'd say Hidden Fires is maybe three or four times as long as the Caine Mutiny. Thank you again to all of those wonderful H/C fans who have helped me regain confidence in my writing over the last year and a half. Enjoy the vacation from my stories, and I'll return fictionally in a few months. Deb


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